HeadCanon Accepted
by PaintTheWorldDifferent
Summary: I got the idea to make one shots out of every headcanon I have. . .
1. Hey, Jude

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, the characters, the lyrics to Hey, Jude, the melody to Hey, Jude, the beatles, etc etc

Dean was cleaning out Baby, Castiel standing stiffly to the side. Dean cursed as he dropped an armful of junk. He scolded himself for wondering if Cas was looking at his back side as he bent over.

"Dean." Castiel said. Dean looked to Cas, seeing a small square photo clutched in his hands, observing it intently. "This is your mother." Dean snatched the photo from Cas, turning and stuffing it in his wallet.

Seeing Castiel's confused and offended expression, he pulled it back out. He smoothed it out and stood close to Cas, showing him. "This was taken by my dad. They went to the beach for their one year dating anniversary. This was about two years before I was born."

"Beautiful." Dean pretended he didn't notice Castiel looking at him and not at Mary. "Yeah. Yeah she was." He replied, gazing fondly at the picture. "You know, I used to be terrified of the dark. Heh, still am, I suppose. But my mom, she would-ah, she would come in and find me huddled under the covers and sing Hey, Jude to protect me from the darkness."

He gently smoothed it out and placed it back in his wallet, before continuing to clean out Baby.

Castiel said nothing, knowing the conversation was over. And Dean popped in an old mixed tape, and the chords of a song Castiel didn't recognize started playing. _Hey, Jude, don't make it bad. . ._

~Seasons Later~

"So, this is your room, Cas." Dean said, gesturing to the simple bedroom.

It was bare, with only the large double bed in the middle and the chest of drawers pushed against the left wall and a nightstand on the left side of the bed, desk lamp sitting atop it.

Despite the simplicity, Dean looked on it with awe and pride. Castiel knew it was because Dean had never had a home of his own before, and offering Castiel not only a family, but a home and his own room was the greatest gift the elder Winchester could give to him.

"I love it." He said softly, grinning authentically at Dean.

Castiel lay in his new bed in his new room, eyes shut tightly.

He used to be an angel, he knew what hid in the dark. He knew it was an irrational fear and that the Winchesters would never left anything into their house, but Castiel still clutched the blankets closer.

"H-hey Jude. . ." Castiel softly sang, voice trembling. "D-don't be afraid. . ."

Dean heard noises coming from Castiel's room. He grabbed his shotgun and crept towards the room slowly.

"And anytime you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain. . ." Was that Cas singing Hey Jude?

Dean slowly opened the door and peeked his head in. Castiel, upon seeing the doorknob turn, started singing Hey Jude more aggressively, voice at a normal tone instead of a whisper.

"Cas? Cas! Its me!" Dean said hands up in surrender, not that Castiel could see it with the pillows over his head.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, voice shaking. "Yeah. What's the matter, buddy?" Dean said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not an angel anymore, Dean. Any one of the monsters who ant me dead could walk in and kill me. And you said Hey Jude keeps me safe." He explained. Dean sighed and pulled off his boots, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around Castiel. "It only works if someone else is singing it to you. _Hey Jude, don't be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. . ._"

Dean sang and repeated and sang and repeated and didn't stop even when his throat began to hurt and his voice went to shit. He didn't stop until a couple hours after Castiel had long been asleep, breathing deeply while wrapped in Dean's embrace. Dean didn't stop because he wanted Castiel to hear him subconsciously, he wanted to protect Cas even in his dreams, as Cas protected him.

It became a regular routine, starting the next night.

Sam, Dean, and Cas would all go to their separate rooms, and after about 45 minutes Castiel would pad barefooted into Dean's room and crawl in bed with him. Dean would hold him tight and sing to him.

_And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders. . ._

Years passed and Castiel didn't need to be sung to anymore. But whenever Dean went on a hunt, Castiel would assure him he'd be fine on his own.

And it never failed that Dean would know Cas wasn't fine, and would call him and start singing to him. Castiel would assure him he's fine, but Dean would tell him that over the years, he's developed a need for it more than Castiel has.

"So just let me comfort you, okay?" Dean said into the phone gruffly, already humming the opening chords as Castiel settled into the memory foam mattress, laying on Dean's side to absorb his smell, hoping that the mattress would share the memory.

_Hey Jude, don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_


	2. To The Rescue, Batman

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural the characters, etc etc

"Hey, Cas?" Dean called from the tiny bathroom.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Why don't we go out, eh? Just you and me? While Sam's staying late at the library?" The small, dirty motel had stains in places that were difficult stain and smelled like cigars and cheap sex. Dean was sick of it. Night after night, the same setting with different coloured wallpaper.

"Out where, exactly?" Castiel asked from his perch on Dean's stiff motel mattress.

"To a bar, man! Play some pool, drink some booze, perfect, yeah?" Dean said, stepping into the main room with a bright-eyed expression.

Castiel shifted uneasily. "Okay, Dean." He said. Castiel loved spending time with Dean, but the idea of going to a place of sin wasn't ideal.

OoOo

They arrived at the bar, and seeing Dean so at ease relaxed Castiel, just a bit.

It was pretty full, with only a bar stool and a booth or two empty. The fast-working bartenders and busty waitresses seemed to keep busy, anyway.

Dean spotted a mostly unused pool table across the room and promptly dragged Castiel to it while simultaneously flagging down a waitress.

Dean had shown him how to play pool, and even though he didn't understand the point of playing a game where you line up the angles and hope it bounces the balls into the holes, he felt fairly at ease. Math was one of his better subjects, all factual and specific. Everything was done in a certain way and if you did it that way then it would produce the ideal result.

Dean was delighted that Castiel was so good. He could use this to his advantage, lure in guys who thought Cas was shit at pool. Man, where they in for a surprise.

"I'm gonna go get another drink." Dean called over the chatter of the bar.

And that he did. However, when he turned to go back he saw Castiel, bent low over the pool table, ass sticking out and hands gripped around the pool stick. As Dean's jeans became uncomfortably tight, he couldn't help but wish those hands were gripped around something else.

Just then, a tall sweaty man approached Castiel, pressing into his backside and roughly grabbing his hips. Castiel looked surprised and more than a little uncomfortable, so Dean slammed his glass onto the countertop and made his way over.

"Hey, watch it buddy!" Dean said, pushing the guy off Castiel and wrapping an arm protectively around his shoulder. "He's with me."

"I think he can speak for himself. Besides, there's no way you're a cock sucker. Too pretty and too proud." The guy taunted.

Castiel stayed silent. He trusted Dean to keep him safe, and the arm curled around his shoulders felt too good to risk speaking up.

"Oh, yeah? Watch me." Dean said, grabbing Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat and kissing him, rough and if it was a bit chaste on Castiel's part, well, no one complained.

Dean pulled back and looked at Castiel as the guy left, grumbling.

But Dean didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to talk about how he felt, or what that kiss meant, or how Castiel's chapped lips still felt soft enough against Dean's that he never wanted to let go.

"Dean?" Castiel questioned.

"I'm tired. Let's go." Dean said, avoiding his gaze.

"But-" Dean grabbed the keys and walked away, effectively cutting Cas off.

Castiel stared after Dean for a few seconds after he walked away, before swiftly following.

As they drove away, Castiel didn't say much at first, but eventually he broke the silence. "Dean, we need to talk about it."

"I was just getting that guy off your back, man." Dean replied with a nervous chuckle.

"You didn't have to kiss me, though." Castiel reminded him.

"I was just being thorough." Dean said defensively.

"But-"

Dean roughly pulled onto the shoulder of the road, slamming on the breaks.

"Fine!" Dean snapped, turning to face Castiel. "Fine. You wanna know what that kiss meant to me? Fine, I'll tell you. It felt like fireworks, butterflies, and every other goddamned chick flick moment the media uses to make love seem more fun than it is. It felt like you had the most awesome lips I've ever casually slammed mine against, except this time it wasn't casual. It felt like I wanted to slam you onto that pool table and ride you into the sunset. Why? Because ever since that day back at Chuck's place, when you took on all the archangels and _died_, just to buy me some time, I've known I was in love with you. I've been in love with you for so _fucking _long I can't remember what it feels like to not be. So I thought that kiss meant I would get relief from whatever bullshit feelings I've had all this time, but no. That kiss meant I'm screwed to hell."

Castiel stared at him with wide eyes, before leaning over and roughly pressing his lips to Dean's. It only lasted a second, but it changed their lives forever.

"Me too." Castiel whispered against Dean's lips when he stopped for air.

"What?" Dean asked, a little dazed.

"Me too. Every since that day when we were stopping the apocalypse and you were the only one who would listen to me. The only one who would help me. You were there when I needed you the most, in ways no one else was, and I knew then that I had fallen for you. I didn't know then they I would end up falling for you in the non-metaphorical sense." Cas chuckled darkly.

Dean didn't giggle. Nope, not even a little. He pressed his lips to Castiel's once more, and savoured the feeling. Somehow, he knew he would never get tired of it.

Needless to say, it was a while before they pulled back onto the road and went home.


	3. Daddy's Hands

Dean grunted as his daughter, Jo, landed a tough right hook on his jaw. He'd had worse, but for a 17-year-old girl, she hit just as hard as Sam.

He spat the blood out of his mouth and pulled his shirt over his head. Despite the cool stone basement in the underground bunker, they had been at it for hours and they were both sweating.

"Dad. . ?" Jo said timidly.

"Hmm?" Dean said bracing himself for another blow.

"You never told me about the hand print on your shoulder." She said.

Dean silently wiped the sweat off his forehead, walking over to the cooler and pulling out a beer for himself and a coke for Jo. He patted the space next to him.

He had been trying to find ways to avoid telling his only child about this since he asked Charlie to be their surrogate. He didn't want her to know about Hell; didn't want to tell her the things he'd done or the things he'd seen, or that sometimes when Castiel isn't home he still has nightmares. But most of all, he didn't want her to think Demon Deals were okay.

_You can't hide it from her anymore, Dean. She deserves to know._ A voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam said in the back of his mind.

"Dad?" She said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

His eyes focused on the wall in front of him as he took a swig of beer, the bitter taste giving him strength.

"My dad always had one priority. Protect Sam. Protect Sam. Protect Sam. Drilled that into me since I was four years old." Dean started. "Fast forward a few years, Sam and I were on a hunt when we found out about Demon Deals. You give your soul to them and you get ten years of happiness before they drag your ass to Hell.. Well, Uncle Sam was hurt. He died, actually. But I went and made a deal and brought him back. But they only gave me a year to live, instead of ten. I died protecting Sam, and I wouldn't change it for the world." He said, meeting Jo's eyes.

"Well, a year later, Hellhounds got me. But the thing is, time on Earth is different than time in Hell. It was four months on Earth, but forty years in Hell. But they gave me an offer. They wouldn't hurt me if I tortured others. For 30 years I said no. Until one day I didn't.

"Now, I know we're not big on religion around here. But I know you know about the apocalypse. To start the apocalypse, you have to break sixty-six seals; to spring the devil from his box. The first one is "a righteous man, broken in Hell." I was the righteous man. See, the angels were supposed to stop me, pull me out of Hell. But they were too late. But your daddy, your father, wrapped his hands around me and pulled me out." Dean gestured to the hand print.

"He was so powerful that he left a mark that symbolised the bonding of an angel and a human. We've had some good times and some bad times, but in the end, he pulled me out of the ground. Brought me back to Sammy. Helped me save the world. And I have loved him ever since." Dean finished with a small smile, before clearing his throat and taking another drink to cover it.

Jo was silent next to him, and when he looked back at her, she was blinking back tears. She then looked at the hand print placed her slim fingers over it. Her hand was much smaller than her Daddy's but Dean thought nothing had ever been a more perfect fit.

"Dad?" She said again.

"Hmm?" He replied, meeting her eyes as she stood.

"I'm glad Daddy pulled you out." She then wordlessly handed him a knife, and they silently resumed fighting.


	4. Human Error

Dean and Castiel were seated at a hardwood table at Castiel's. . . Military base? Sam had gone off to brush his hair or something; Dean didn't pay much attention since they "weren't brothers anymore". They had closed the blinds to this office's glass windows since discovering there was a traitor in Castiel's followers.

A certain question had been nagging at the back of Dean's mind for a while, but it never seemed like the right time to ask, so soon after the fall.

"I don't get it!" Dean exploded after sitting in silence with Castiel for three minutes. "Why? Why you? Did they need a-a rebellious angel? They could have anyone! Hell, they could have gotten /Lucifer/ for dramatic effect, you know he's into that. Metatron blew out holy fire like freakin' birthday candles, don't pretend he couldn't take Lucifer. Now I know you know, so don't give me any bullshit."

Castiel's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably. "Dean. . . I don't think. . ." Castiel trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Dean felt bad for putting Cas on the spot like that. Maybe it was still too soon after the fall, maybe the memories were too painful. But it was too late now and damn it, didn't he deserve to know?

"Cas. Its me. We're family. I scoured all of purgatory to find you. You've been to Hell and back for me. If there's anybody on this God-damned earth you can talk to about this, it's me."

"W-well. . . They weren't normal ingredients. They were specific ingredients." Castiel murmured. Dean nodded encouragingly for him to go on.

"Maybe I should just show you." Castiel said, standing and walking around the table, leaning over and gently tapping his fingers against Dean's forehead.

Suddenly, Dean was facing Metatron. He struggled to stand only to find that his arms were bound. He looked down and found himself staring at Castiel's lean body. Then Dean realized he was in Castiel's /memories/, and he was seeing everything Cas saw, exactly as he had seen it.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. Of all the angels in Heaven, why did I ask you? Well, that's the thing, Castiel. 'Cas', as that human of yours calls you. You haven't been entirely honest with him, have you? Does he know that you have feelings for him? In love with The Righteous Man, the very symbol of humanity. You love humanity so much, followed God's will to the letter, you fell in love with the most important of God's creation. So that's why I had to have you, Castiel. The ingredients for my spell were to find an angel who loves humanity, and persuade him to kill a Nephillim, one of the children born of angel and human love. Then persuade him to take away a Cupid's bow, the instrument by which Heaven helps people to fall in love. Lastly, rip out the now-tainted grace of the angel who loved humans above all else. You see, God instructed angels to love humans. My spell was aimed specifically at defiling signs of love between angels and humans, a love which God explicitly commanded, thus bringing about their expulsion from Heaven. The angels fell because my spell recast the original angelic sin, the one which got Lucifer thrown into the pit. That of not loving humanity. When you broke the nature of that love, you defied God. Your grace shrivelled in shame, temporarily forgetting the love you have for The Righteous Man. Don't you see? Your love for people made you the essential ingredient. Your love for Dean Winchester, heavenly representative of the Human Race, made you the essential ingredient. Too much heart was always your problem, Castiel."

Dean was brought out of the memory, and the first thing he saw were Castiel's startling blue eyes, looking deep into Dean's. Realizing he was in the present, Castiel moved a few steps back, not meeting Dean's gaze.

"Cas?" Dean asked sternly but quietly.

"I don't know. I have to assume what he said was correct since-"

"Are you in love with me?" Dean interrupted, expression blank.

"Yes." Castiel whispered. "Yes." He said more firmly, cornflower blue crashing with bottle green in a moment of pure defiance.

"Some guy once called 'love' 'human error'. . . And I gotta say, everything else in my life has been a giant fuck up, so at least it's nothing new." Dean said, before grabbing Castiel by his tan lapels and crashing their lips together.

(A/N: I STILL NEED HEADCANONS. I have a few but a few really isn't that much. . . They will eventually run out.)


	5. The Night I Surrendered

Time worked differently in Hell. Everyone knew that. So five years in hell was like two weeks on Earth.

But two weeks was all it took.

Something about running for your lives, with only each other for protection, created a special bond between two people; some would call it profound.

After five years filled with lots of hiding and fighting, Castiel gripped Dean's hand and pulled him to the gate of Hell.

"This is it, Cas! We made it, baby." Dean said, pressing his lips to Castiel's. Castiel, however, didn't respond as eagerly as usual. "What's the matter?" Dean asked, leaning back to look at Castiel's expression more clearly.

"Dean, I. . . I love you. These past five years have been wonderful in ways I can't imagine. But you have only seen me in my true form. When. . . When we get outside, you won't survive the memories. So I have to take them, and meet you on the other side in a vessel."

"W-what?" Dean stuttered. "No!" Dean shouted, wrapping his arms around Castiel tightly, burying his face in Castiel's neck so he couldn't place his fingers on Dean's forehead.

Castiel drew lazy circles on Dean's shoulder, pressing a kiss to his hair before laying his palm out flat and erasing every memory up to the moment Castiel's garrison knocked down the door to his torture chambers.

Castiel spent the months after Dean's rescue in heaven, retraining to be a proper soldier. Upon hearing his story, Uriel was more than happy to help out.

So when Castiel faced Dean on Earth, he was ready. He looked into Dean's eyes and felt no traces of the love that he had felt in Hell.

Hell was a place of sin, and that's what Castiel had done. He had sinned. So he knew that the feeling of his grace reaching for Dean was just his grace yearning for the thrilling feeling of sin, like a heroin addict yearning for another fix. That's where fallen angels went wrong. They got addicted to the feeling of sin and then they crashed and burned, literally. Castiel would follow orders, be a good little soldier. His grace didn't yearn to press against Dean's soul. Besides, he had to protect Dean.

At least, that's what he told himself.

And every time he caught himself staring longingly at Dean, he shook his head roughly and told himself he was just concerned.

Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously. There was something about this new creature that made his chest ache, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Like when you see something in your peripheral vision but every time you turn your head to look, it disappears again.

Two years later, Dean was sitting in his dirty motel room on the stiff mattress with his head in his hands, trying to blink back the tears that desperately wanted to fall.

Castiel had betrayed him. After everything they had been through, Cas knew how fragile Dean's trust was. And then he just threw it away like it was worthless.

"Dean." Castiel said, appearing in the motel room in front of Dean.

"You have some nerve, waltzing in here like you own the place." Dean said lowly. "Get out." He said warningly.

"Dean." Castiel pleaded.

"I said get out!" Dean shouted, grabbing the lamp on the nearest table and ripping the chord out of the wall, throwing it at the angel and watching it shatter against the wall Castiel was previously standing in front of.

Dean collapsed on the bed, no longer able to control the tears.

Meanwhile, Castiel stood off the the side and watched, hiding on a plane humans couldn't see. He didn't alert Dean to his continuing presence, but he looked on in. . . Concern.

In fact, for some reason, moisture prickled his eyes in concern as well.


	6. Alternate Ending

(A/N: This is an alternate ending to the previous chapter, "The Night I Surrendered". I'm a sucker for happy endings. Shoutout to my beta, johnwiththewind15 and extracheesypizzas, who let me bounce ideas off her and actually convinced me to make an alternate ending.)

Rated: T.

Time worked differently in Hell. Everyone knew that. So five years in hell was like two weeks on Earth.

But two weeks was all it took.

Something about running for your lives, with only each other for protection, created a special bond between two people; some would call it profound.

After five years filled with lots of hiding and fighting, Castiel gripped Dean's hand and pulled him to the gate of Hell.

"This is it, Cas! We made it, baby." Dean said, pressing his lips to Castiel's. Castiel, however, didn't respond as eagerly as usual. "What's the matter?" Dean asked, leaning back to look at Castiel's expression more clearly.

"Dean, I. . . I love you. These past five years have been wonderful in ways I can't imagine. But you have only seen me in my true form. When. . . When we get outside, you won't survive the memories. So I have to take them, and meet you on the other side in a vessel."

"W-what?" Dean stuttered. "No!" Dean shouted, wrapping his arms around Castiel tightly, burying his face in Castiel's neck so he couldn't place his fingers on Dean's forehead.

Castiel drew lazy circles on Dean's shoulder, pressing a kiss to his hair before laying his palm out flat and erasing every memory up to the moment Castiel's garrison knocked down the door to his torture chambers.

Castiel spent the months after Dean's rescue in heaven, retraining to be a proper soldier. Upon hearing his story, Uriel was more than happy to help out.

So when Castiel faced Dean on Earth, he was ready. He looked into Dean's eyes and felt no traces of the love that he had felt in Hell.

Hell was a place of sin, and that's what Castiel had done. He had sinned. So he knew that the feeling of his grace reaching for Dean was just his grace yearning for the thrilling feeling of sin, like a heroin addict yearning for another fix. That's where fallen angels went wrong. They got addicted to the feeling of sin and then they crashed and burned, literally. Castiel would follow orders, be a good little soldier. His grace didn't yearn to curl around Dean's soul. Besides, he had to protect Dean.

At least, that's what he told himself.

And every time he caught himself staring longingly at Dean, he shook his head roughly and told himself he was just concerned.

Dean eyed Castiel suspiciously. There was something about this new creature that made his chest ache, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Like when you see something in your peripheral vision but every time you turn your head to look, it disappears again.

Two years later, Dean was sitting in his dirty motel room on the stiff mattress with his head in his hands, trying to blink back the tears that desperately wanted to fall.

Castiel had betrayed him. After everything they had been through, Cas knew how fragile Dean's trust was. And then he just threw it away like it was worthless.

"Dean." Castiel said, appearing in the motel room in front of Dean.

"You have some nerve, waltzing in here like you own the place." Dean said lowly. "Get out." He said warningly.

"Dean." Castiel pleaded.

"I said get out!" Dean shouted, grabbing the lamp on the nearest table and ripping the chord out of the wall, throwing it at the angel and watching it shatter against the wall Castiel was previously standing in front of.

Castiel relocated to the other side of the room. Dean's chest was heaving and it was getting a lot harder to control his tears. "Did you ever give a damn? Would you have let me rot in Hell if Daddy hadn't forced you? Was all that talk about family just bullshit to you? Did you fly up to Heaven and laugh about it with Michael? Did you ever give a damn about m-us?" Dean caught himself before he said _me_.

"I did." Castiel said sternly. "I can prove it." Castiel had thought long and hard about fixing Dean's memory loss, and he had successfully come up with a solution.

"Yeah? Go ahead!" Dean screamed. Castiel swiftly approached him and roughly pressing two fingers against his forehead, pushing him onto the bed with the force of it.

Castiel showed Dean every moment in Hell. Every panting breath, every hand tug, every kiss stolen away while hiding from the guards of Hell.

To protect Dean, he tampered with the memories to show his vessel and not his true form.

When Dean resurfaced, he stared at Castiel in shock. "All this time. . .?"

"Always." Castiel replied, finally admitting to himself that he had never really given up on Dean, just found excuses to avoid it.

But no more.

Castiel leaned in to kiss Dean, and Dean froze. But after a few moments, he started to respond. Hesitantly at first, getting used to these new feelings. But then the kiss started to get more passionate, and Castiel and Dean could feel their souls start to vibrate, wrapping around each other in recognition.

Then their bodies took over their actions, allowing the familiarity to guide them.


	7. Blue Eyes

(Rating: Mature. Very Mature. Not necessarily explicit, but still very mature. You have been warned.)

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Dean was thrusting roughly in and out of Cas, Cas spread out beneath him, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

"Come on, baby." Dean panted, punctuating each word with a thrust. "Show me those blue eyes." Castiel's eyes shot open, gasping as he climaxed, spilling all over his and Dean's stomachs.

Dean thought it was incredibly hot, and never thought of it again.

The second time it happened, Dean had Castiel bent over the bathroom counter.

"Open those blue eyes for me, baby." Dean grunted in Castiel's ear, nibbling gently. "I want you to see how beautiful you look."

Once again, Castiel's shot open. He took in the scene reflected in the mirror in front of him, before spilling all over the counter.

Later, when they lay curled together in Dean's bed, Dean thought back and knew there was no way it could be a coincidence. So he decided to test it out.

When they got up the next morning, Castiel yawned sleepily as he rolled over to face Dean.

"Morning, blue eyes." Dean smirked at him.

Said blue eyes widened, right before Castiel dragged Dean back under the covers and rode him hard and fast, with the morning sunlight streaming in behind them.

First time is an accident. Second time is a coincidence. Third time is a pattern.

Needless to say, Dean now had Castiel under his control. He wanted to see just how far the kink went.

Dean, Sam, and Castiel were at a diner near their hotel room. A busty waitress shimmied over to serve them, pushing her chest out as she giggled and asked Dean what he wanted.

"A double bacon cheeseburger, a black coffee, and a plate of scrambled eggs for blue eyes over here." Dean rattled off, putting his arm around Cas and tilting his head in Castiel's directon.

"Dean." Castiel said through gritted teeth. "May I speak to you alone?"

"Sure thing, blue eyes." Dean replied with a smirk, slowing down his words for emphasis. Dean stood, and Castiel roughly grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the bathroom, where he gave Dean an impromptu blowjob and made him press against the wall for a quick but hard fuck.

Oh, yeah. Dean would definitely have to refer to Cas as blue eyes more often.

(A/N: STILL LOOKING FOR HEADCANONS. Submit them to me here, or on my tumblr: painttheworlddifferent. Thanks to my beta, johnwiththewind15, and extracheesypizzas for bringing me all these headcanons.)


	8. A Drive To Missouri

(Rating: T for joking about blow jobs and threatening to torture John Winchester into accepting his son's sexuality.)

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, fidgeting. Castiel could tell from his place as passenger that Dean wasn't as calm as his blank expression seemed.

They had a case in Lawrence. Not. . . _there_, but nearby. And they were calling upon the help of a friendly psychic, Missouri, to help them out. Castiel could tell with every mile they drove closer to "The House" the more uncomfortable Dean got.

However, Cas knew better than to bring it up. Dean wasn't one for "talking".

Upon arriving at Missouri's, Castiel sensed the presence of a rather friendly soul, but Dean sighed as if he were dreading what would come of the visit. Castiel didn't understand.

Just as Castiel was shutting the door behind him, a short plump woman came waddling out of the house. "Dean Winchester! You're not too old for a whippin, boy, and its been a long time since I got to use my wooden spoon for anything other than cookin'!" She yelled. Dean cracked a smile, and Castiel could see the fondness underneath the exasperation.

"Hey, sorry, Missouri. I've been off saving the world. Haven't really had time for sending post cards," Dean replied easily, gathering the woman in his arms and giving her a big hug.

She hugged him back before hitting his arm with aforementioned wooden spoon. "Don't sass me, boy." She said sternly. She then lay her inquisitive eyes on Castiel. "Oh. . . So _you're _Cas. I've heard much about you."

"From who?" Dean wondered aloud.

"You, of course. Your thoughts are just filled with pretty blue eyes and a gruff voice and things you shouldn't be thinking about in the presence of a lady," She said, turning to glare at Dean once more.

"I-what? I _never_-" Dean spluttered.

"Don't lie to me, boy," Missouri said, pointing the spoon at Dean threateningly.

"But I do not understand. Why would Dean be thinking of my vessel?" Castiel asked Missouri, drawing her attention back to him.

"Oh, sweetheart," She said pityingly. "Why don't we all go inside and I'll fix you boys some lemonade." Castiel was just about to protest that he was an angel of the lord and didn't require sustenance, when Missouri shot him a threatening look as well.

They all trooped inside, Missouri hollering a "wipe your feet off!" as they entered.

Missouri disappeared, presumably into the kitchen, while Dean plopped onto the couch. Castiel, however, remained standing.

"What? Heaven got better couches than me? Angel of the lord too good to sit on the couch of a human like me?" She yelled from the kitchen. "Sit down beside your man-friend, boy. And Dean if so much as one dirty, sock covered toe lifts off that carpet and towards my priceless oak coffee table, well, angel-boy here won't be able to protect you."

"Missouri!" Dean groaned. Castiel slowly lowered himself in the couch, more than a little confused.

"Don't sass me, boy," She said as she walked back into the room, tray of lemonade in hand. She sat in a chair across from the boys.

Castiel gently sipped at the lemonade, once Missouri had raised an eyebrow expectantly. He hummed in pleasant surprise as he started drinking more.

"Okay, so we're on a hunt and. . ." Dean started.

"Just a minute," Missouri interrupted. "Castiel, what are your intentions for Dean?"

Dean choked on the lemonade he was talking a gulp of. "Missouri!"

"Hush, Dean. The adults are talking. Go fetch some more sugar cubes, yeah?" Dean was about to protest but was silenced by a glare from Missouri.

"I do not understand," Castiel said, cocking his head.

"Cas, you're feelin' something inside that you can't explain. That feelin' 's love for our Dean."

"I don't. . ."

"Let me ask you somethin'. What do you feel when you look at Dean? And don't lie to me, 'cause I already know."

"I feel. . . Like there is something wrong with my vessel. I feel like I did when the leviathans were tearing me apart from the inside. I feel like the heart of my vessel is vibrating. And my vessel's vitals increase."

"But how do _you _feel?" Missouri said gently.

"My grace. . . Hums, when he is near. It hurts when he leaves and soars when he returns. My grace reaches for him and I don't understand how when I look into his soul. . . I feel human emotions the likes of which I don't think I, as an angel, have any right to feel."

Missouri nodded knowingly, not bothering to tell Castiel that Dean was listening from the hallway, having a small sexuality crisis.

"And do you feel that way when you look at Sam? Or any of your brothers?" She prodded for effect.

"I feel the way about Sam as I do about my brothers. But my vessel. . . My _grace_," Castiel corrected, "doesn't feel the same as when I look at Dean."

"Mm. Get in here, Dean!" Missouri called.

Dean walked in shakily, avoiding looking at Cas before sitting on the couch, as far away from Cas as possible.

"Look at me, Dean," Missouri said sternly. Dean looked up stiffly. "Your daddy is dead. He can't hurt you no more. Ya hear? Bobby's dead. John's dead. Mary's dead. Everyone is gone, Dean. All you have left is Sam and that boy there," She said, pointing to Castiel. "Mary wouldn't have cared what you stuck in your mouth as long as you were still the respectable young man you are now. Bobby wouldn'ta cared what you shoved up your ass as long as you didn't start acting all girly. And John? Well. . . He woulda came around," She said, a dark gleam in her eye. "And let me tell you now, Sam doesn't give a darn tootin'. He likes Cas and is sick of y'all makin' goo goo eyes at each other. So don't look a gift horse in the mouth, because he might not be around for long," She finished. "Now, I'm gonna go wash these glasses. And y'all better be holdin' hands by the time I get back," She said, gathering the tray of empty lemonade and going to the kitchen.

When she returned, Dean had his arm on the back of the couch behind Castiel, thighs pressed together. Missouri knew Dean and Cas had a lot to talk about during the drive home but for now they did what they always did.

They focused on the hunt and, with Missouri's help, got the job done.

And despite Missoui's scolding and, later, Sam's complaining, the "goo goo eyes" never stopped.


	9. Who wears the pants, Dean?

(A/N: Sorry this took so long. There's a tumblr post that's like "Do I write? Do I read? Do I fanfiction? Do I finish a TV show? Do I start a TV show? Do I rewatch a TV show? Do I take a nap?" And that is literally me. But writing fanfiction has taken the backseat, sadly. However, to make up for it, here is a monster of a chapter where I combined four head canons in one.

Rating: M. More or less.)

"Ha! Maybe if you didn't have Castiel's dick up your ass all the time you'd be able to play a decent hand at cards!" Benny teased, collecting his winnings from the middle of the table.

Dean, Benny, Ash, Sam, Gabriel, and Castiel were all gathered at Dean and Castiel's kitchen table playing poker. They did this every Friday, switching locations. Benny was quite the trash talker and, like most straight white men, blamed Dean losing _again_ on him being gay.

"Hey! I'll have you know I wear the pants in this house!" Dean protested.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at him but said nothing, chuckling good-heartedly along with the others. _We'll see about that,_ he thought.

Later that night, everyone had left, Benny's wallet significantly heavier, and Dean's significantly lighter.

"Aren't you gonna help clean up?" Castiel said, hands on his hips as Dean plopped down in front of the TV.

Dean barely spared a glance in Castiel's direction. "Hmm? No, it's okay. You can handle it."

Castiel set down the glass he was holding and walked towards Dean very determined.

Castiel approached Dean from behind, leaning over the back of the couch, biting his ear gently. "I have something else I'd like to handle," he whispered seductively.

"Mm," Dean hummed in response, leaning his head back and kissing Castiel before rising off the couch. "You know I'm not one to disappoint," he said, following Castiel into the bedroom. He missed the smirk that crossed Castiel's face as he closed the bedroom door.

Castiel kissed Dean seductively, roughly pushing him onto the bed. "It's my turn to top, isn't it?" Castiel whispered in Dean's ear after crawling onto him, making it sound like a statement instead of a question.

Dean stayed silent as Castiel bit his neck, sliding his hands under Dean's shirt and rubbing his nipples. He then tugged Dean's shirt above his head, tangling it around his wrists and tying it to the headboard. Dean moaned, loving the rare occasions that Castiel got rough.

Castiel smirked, kissing his way down Dean's chest until he reached his pants, unbuttoning them and stripping him the rest of the way.

Castiel stood, fully clothed, over a naked and tied Dean. "Who wears the pants now, Dean?" He asked roughly.

That night, Castiel teased Dean until he was begging Castiel to fuck him hard. And after more teasing and begging, Dean got his wish.

Hours later, when Castiel had untied Dean and had curled around him, Castiel spoke. "Oh, Dean?" Cas said sleepily.

"Hmm?" Dean replied, halfway asleep himself.

"Don't forget to clean up tomorrow."

/\/\

The next day, Castiel and Dean met up with the others at the Roadhouse, Benny and Ash teaming up to serve customers while Sam, Gabriel, Dean, and Castiel chatted at a nearby booth.

Dean had quickly but carefully slid into the booth immediately, trying to hide the fact that he couldn't walk straight. He already looked like a douche bag with his collar popped to cover the hickeys.

"Nature calls," Dean said gruffly, gesturing for Cas to slide out of the booth so he could get out and use the restroom.

Dean towered over Castiel by a few inches, Castiel smiling up at Dean sweetly as they made eye contact.

"Be careful sitting on that hard porcelain," Castiel said, emphasising it with a rough smack to Dean's ass, causing him to yelp and making his limp even worse. "I know you're sensitive." Castiel smirked at the others, who were now roaring with laughter.

/\/\

Hours later, the group had relocated to a pool table, Dean shamelessly using Castiel's open and honest facial expressions to trick unknowing bar-goers into betting higher than they could afford.

And it seems some people are into that.

"Why so many layers, cutie? Gives the idea that you're self-conscious or something," some sleezball breathed into Castiel's ear, hand on his lower back. "Need someone to make you feel beautiful?" He said, dropping his hand lower and squeezing Castiel's ass.

Dean watched with anger bubbling in his heart, but decided not to step in. Castiel could handle himself, and would be upset if Dean stepped in and made him seem weak.

"I'm sorry, I'm not interested," Castiel said politely, attempting to side step out of the unwanted grasp. The man, however, only clutched him tighter.

"Not so fast, darling'. If you got high standards, trust me, I can satisfy," he said, leaning in to kiss Castiel.

At this point, Dean didn't give a fuck how Castiel felt.

"Hey, he said he wasn't interested!" Dean said, shoving the guy away from Cas.

"Dean!" Castiel said urgently.

"This doesn't concern you, pretty boy. Find your own twink," the guy sneered.

"Oh, yeah?" Dean chuckled darkly before lunging, punching the guy in the nose with a satisfying _crunch,_ before kicking him in the shin and watching him fall to his knees, blood seeping through the fingers he had clasped over his nose.

"On your knees, right where you belong, fucker," Dean spat.

"Dean Winchester!" Ellen bellowed, stepping out of her office in the back.

"I know, I know! I'm leaving!" Dean waved off her threats, grabbing his jacket and kissing Castiel's cheek. "I'll see you at home, 'kay?" he said with an easy smile as Benny not-so-gently deposited the man out the back door.

"I'm going with you. It's not fun without you," Castiel said gently, rubbing Dean's bruised knuckles.

"Hey!" Gabriel said indignantly.

Dean sent him a cheeky smile before ducking out the door, Castiel's fingers laced through his.

/\/\

"Thanks. For sticking up for me like that," Castiel said, cuddling close to Dean on his stomach since he was still too sensitive to lay on his backside after their post-appreciation sex.

"Hey, don't thank me. No one is allowed to talk to you like that," Dean replied, kissing his temple.

Castiel smiled, cuddling closer to Dean before wincing at the burn on his ass. "Geez, Dean. Did you have to be so rough?"

"Just writing my name on my possessions, in the best way I know how," he said with a smirk.

/\/\

The next day, they went back to the bar. Ellen should have banned them, but Dean was family and really, no one is allowed to talk about Cas like that, he's nothing more than a kitten.

"Hey! Dean, right?" A guy sauntered up to Dean, oozing confidence and a polite smile.

"Yeah?" Dean said, flashing his million-dollar-smile.

"I saw what you did yesterday, and I thought that was really nice of you," he said, flicking his blonde hair out of his face dramatically. Castiel tried not to seethe.

"Why, thank you," Dean said with an easy smirk.

The guy nodded and bit his lip seductively before swaggering off again.

Dean watched him walk off, eyes trailing after his fit body.

"Jo and Ash are both off tonight, I'm gonna see if Benny needs help," Castiel said with an easy smile.

"Hello, Benny. Need a hand?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah. But don't tell Ellen. She'd kill me." Just then, Castiel saw the same guy from earlier flag him down for a drink.

"What kind of beverage would you like?" He asked with a stoic expression.

"Just a beer, please," he replied, not really paying attention to Castiel and staring at Dean from his seat on a bar stool.

Castiel busied himself pouring the drink, before delivering it to the man.

"Well, Benny. I think I've had enough of listening to drunk middle-aged men grovel about their lives heading down the drain," Castiel said, clapping his back gently.

"No problem, Cas. Thanks anyway," Benny said.

Castiel slid into the booth next to Dean, Dean's arm sliding around his shoulders without a glance in his direction or breaking conversation with Sam, as if that's just where it belonged and it was the most natural thing in the world. Which it was.

"Ellen! We need more salt out front!" Castiel heard Benny call. "I swear I just filled this shaker, I don't know how it could be empty already!"

"Boy, don't you go spilling condiments and lying about it. My bank account knows the truth," Ellen said, toting a bag upfront.

Castiel bit his cheek, feeling slightly guilty that he got Benny in trouble.

A few minutes later, the guy who kept hitting on Dean took a sip of his drink, quickly spitting it out and spluttering. "What the _fuck_?" He yelled, staring at his beer in disgusted.

Okay, so, maybe Castiel didn't feel _that_ bad. He bit his cheek to keep from chuckling.

A little while and a lot of staring from Dean's admirer later, Benny sauntered over, setting a beer down in front of Dean.

"I didn't order this?" Dean asked, confused. Ellen didn't give them discounts, so where did this come from?

"Blonde dude over there did. Seems to think there's something special in you. Better watch out, Cas," Benny said with a wink.

Castiel's earlier anger bubbled to the surface and spilled over. He stood up and marched over to the man sitting at the bar looking smug.

"Look, buddy!" Castiel hissed, years spent with Dean showing through his normally calm demeanour. "Back off my boyfriend, got it? He's not fucking interested."

"I think he can speak for himself," the blonde said, standing and using his few inches height advantage to loom over Cas.

"He can, but he's not. So I am. Fuck off," Castiel said, too angry to worry about being polite and not swearing.

"I'd rather hear it from him. In the form of him screaming my name," the guy smirked down at Castiel.

And that was _it_. Castiel lunged at the blonde, wrapping his hands around his throat and slamming his head against the bar, knocking off a few glasses and startling a few customers. He pulled his hand back and slammed it into the guy's jaw, then the guy's eye, and finally his nose, smiling at the blood that began dripping down his face.

"Cas!" Dean said, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him off.

"Castiel Novak! Goddamn it!" Ellen hollered.

"I apologize, Mrs. Harvelle," he said politely, straightening his trench coat. "I will be leaving now."

"Hell yeah, you will," she said, but with fondness at how he showed respect for her.

He calmly walked out, wondering if Dean would come with him or if he would go home with the admittedly more attractive blonde.

He let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding when he heard those familiar footsteps approaching hurriedly.

"Wait up, Cas. You know I'm not as young as I once was."

"I wasn't sure if you would be coming with me," Castiel admitted quietly.

"Of course I would!" Dean exclaimed. He placed his hands on both sides of Castiel's face and kissed him gently. "Of course I would," he repeated, softer. "Let's go home," he suggested.

Castiel nodded, and was led to the Impala.

"Sorry for losing control like that. I didn't like how he was looking at you," Castiel admitted as he took off his jacket.

Suddenly Dean was there, pressing his body against Castiel's and pressing rough kisses to his lips and pushing him towards the bed. "Castiel, that was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I've never been fought over before," he said with a cheeky smile. "Maybe I should give that guy my number, just to watch you get all protective again."

Castiel growled at that and spun them around, pushing Dean roughly onto the bed and pouncing on him.

Needless to say, Castiel got to top that night.

((A/N: So I was thinking about writing a detailed smut scene from the scene where Castiel was proving that he was just as manly as Dean? Thoughts? It will be posted on AO3, of course, because I don't want to get in trouble on FF for being too explicit, ya feel?

Also, _now _I am officially out of head canons. I combined like four into this chapter because they all fit together so well. Soooo, pretty please, help me out? I can't write if I don't have a plot. If you can even call it that, heh.

So, thanks to my beta, johnwiththewind15.

Psst, wanna know a secret? I was so desperate for head canons that I asked my Directioner friend, youhadmeatoopshi, for head canons about her OTP, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson. And BAM this chapter was born. So thanks to her, also, for letting me steal her head canons.

Submit your own head canons (for any OTP, I am desperate) to me, painttheworlddifferent on tumblr, or them (also on tumblr), and they'll probably get a spot in this fic!

Also, if you get bored waiting for an update, I have another fic just like this one except it's made out of songs instead of head canons. Just to hold you over until the next update.))


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